


happy

by buries



Series: 100 word prompt fills [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>i'm not playing strip poker with you, princess.</i> or the one where clarke gives bellamy a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted [here](http://finnicks.tumblr.com/post/141686703317/24-bellarke) for tumblr user kay_emm_gee, who answered a meme where i wrote bellarke to the prompt of "happy."
> 
> this fits nowhere and anywhere all at once within the show. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. ♥

Bellamy pulls the pillow over his head when she drops down onto the edge of his bed.

“Come on,” she says, nudging his leg. In her hands are twenty-four cards she’s neatly cut and designed. They’re roughly all the same shape, the coloured paper the same thickness and creamy shade.

This isn’t the first time she’s come to him with a deck of cards. Drawing what’s seen out in the woods and in the books of Mount Weather, she’s coloured them as neatly as she can with the watercolour paints they’d taken from the bunker.

It’s her way of remembering, of never quite forgetting.

But what she has for him now is different. Unique. More personal. She wants to show him she hasn’t forgotten what’s most important to him.

Shifting on the bed, her knee bumps into his hip. Bellamy pulls the pillow from his eyes and looks up at her, squinting as though she’s the sun.

She thinks to tell him that. But the last time she had, he’d gone on about the adventures of Icarus and his father, and though she’s compelled to bait him once more, she wants him to see it on her collection of cards.

“I’m not playing strip poker with you, Princess,” he says, corner of his lips quirking upward. “We both know you lost on purpose last time.”

Face heated, Clarke shoves his shoulder. He laughs, pulling himself upright. Shoving one of his pillows up, he leans against that and the headboard. “What is it?”

“I made you something,” she says, holding the deck of cards close to her chest. His eyes eventually fall to them, then lift back up to hers. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything within reason.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Looking pointedly at him, she arches her brow, and says, firmly, “Don’t make fun of me.”

Holding her hand out, she curves all of her fingers into her palm, leaving her pinky out for him to take. Bellamy rolls his eyes and loops his around hers, shaking her hand gently despite how rough she knows him to be.

“Show me.”

Pausing for a moment, Clarke presses the twenty-four cards close to her chest. Watching his expression, she waits until he seems impatient, brows rising and his smile growing, before she closes her eyes and thrusts the cards toward him.

Taking them, he’s quiet for a long moment. Opening her eyes, she watches as he gently flicks through them. His gaze lingers on them for too long for her not to feel her face cool down.

Holding a card up, he shows her the one she thinks would be his favourite. A three-headed dog, coloured in black, standing outside of gates she’d coloured gold. Pressing her hands into her lap, she fiddles with her fingers.

“You made me a deck of cards,” he says quietly, sounding incredulous. Looking back at them again, she notices how he pauses on the eight-headed dragon curling around a tree.

“I know they’re not the greatest —”

“They’re amazing, Clarke,” he says softly, looking up at her, then back down at the cards.

“They’re yours,” she shrugs, finding the movement doesn’t alleviate her of her blush. “I know how much you like the stories —”

Before he moves, he puts the cards to the side, on the pillow she often takes as her own in his bed. He turns toward her, and she should expect it, the way he gravitates toward her. But she still finds herself surprised when his arm comes around her back, his other hand on her cheek as he kisses her.

She feels his smile burn into the curve of her mouth, and finds hers mimics the shape of his.


End file.
